World's End
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: Part 3 of A Thousand Worlds. Booker and Elizabeth take shelter from a reality storm in a strange place full of strange people. Too many crossovers to list...
1. Chapter 1

Cast: Booker DeWitt, Elizabeth, Jack Harkness, Asura, Dante, Vergil as themselves

_They crossed many worlds in search of a place to rest. The terror and sheer wrongness of the Torn World still haunted Booker, and they were not alone. During one of their many attempts at sleep, Elizabeth had been woken by her father crying out in the dead of night. Through his terse monosyllabic grunts, she learned that the alternate future he had witnessed on his way to rescue her from Dr Powell had been waiting for him when he closed his eyes. Other futures too: one where she had died on the operating table, one where he had arrived too late to stop the procedure and she had killed HIM in her rage. And the last one, which she choked back tears of her own upon hearing, in which she had been forced to drown him to right the wrongs. His mind, like Robert Lutece's before him, seemed to be in danger of breaking from the strains of pandimensional travel._

_Several moons later, Booker awoke, this time not in panicked flight from the demons of his dreams, but with a deep-seated urge to move on. The fire they'd lit as the sun went down had long been reduced to smoldering tinder and as the waves that crashed upon the shore crept closer, he lifted his slumbering daughter into his arms and walked into the jungle. The fireworks from across the island and distant cheers from the village that was made of plants and floating on the water didn't wake her, nor did his struggles against the greenery that tried to bar their path. Strangely, the deeper he went, the less foliage he found. The sounds of nightlife about him seemed to fade as well, and then, with what seemed hardly any noticeable change at all, he was stumbling along a barren featureless plain._

_Suddenly, he found himself in front of a wooden door. He had no memory of seeing it in the distance as he made his way across the bleak terrain; it seemed to have come out of nowhere. He shifted Elizabeth in his arms and struggled to turn the handle..._

He was in a bar. It looked nice enough, he supposed (being somewhat of an expert on the subject), but what struck him was the locale. There wasn't a single other thing in sight outside, just a grey tundra, so who in their right mind would build such an establishment here?

His slow methodical musings were interrupted by the man behind the bar, who called over his shoulder, "Will you close the door already? You're lettin' in a draft!" The first man obeyed (first in our estimation, but not his own) and nudged it shut with his foot. "Made it just in time. That's one hell of a storm out there!" the bartender said as he polished a glass.

"What storm?" the man coughed. His voice was ragged from disuse.

"Oh, she may not look like much now, but give it an hour or two and this place'll be fit to burst!" He turned around with a winning smile that quickly faded as he saw what the man was carrying. "What happened?" he asked, already hurrying around towards him for a closer look.

"Nothing happened. She's just sleepin', that's all." the man said. The bartender was next to them now and reaching for the girl's wrist, likely to check her pulse. "I said she's fine." the man growled, jerking her away with a twist of his arms.

"Hey, no need to yell." the bartender said, hands raised in the air placatingly. "If you say she's fine, she's fine. Just take a seat somewhere; I'll be with ya in a second." He went back to the bar and began to mix a pair of drinks as the other man took a look around. The room was sizable but completely empty. If what the bartender had said was true, it'd fill up soon, and he was not in the mood for conversation. He chose one of the far corner tables and hefted the girl over his shoulder, the better to draw up some more chairs. He wasn't hoping for company, quite the opposite. He just wanted a place for her to rest, so he lined several chairs up and eased her down onto them.

The bartender bustled over. "You two look like you could use somethin' warm in you, but this'll have to do." He winked broadly as he set the drinks down. The man tasted them gingerly, first his own, and then the other. He grimaced, but took a sip anyway. His expression of wary disinterest faded to one of comfortable acceptance. "Well, I've had worse." he said and knocked the rest back in one fell swoop. The bartender grinned. "My own personal recipe. I'd tell you what's in it, but you probably wouldn't believe me. Either that or you'd try to kill me. Or make out with me. I've had all three." The man glared at the bartender, who continued grinning, at least until the girl stirred fitfully.

The bartender looked thoughtful, then seemed to make up his mind. "Be right back." he told the man and hurried away. The man leaned back in his chair. He listened to the strange wind rattle against the strange building, and he watched his daughter sleep. Her brow was unfurrowed by care or worry and her lips were parted ever so slightly. He couldn't hold back any longer; he got up, circled around the table, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "There. That's for all those times I let you down." he whispered.

The faintest of throat-clearing noises was made behind him. He turned around to find the bartender standing there, a large blue greatcoat hanging over one arm. "Almost forgotten where I'd hidden it." he confided to the man as he rolled it up. "Do you want to give it to her or should I?" The man took the bundle which the bartender was holding out to him. "It's nothing personal. Just don't like it when people get too close to her." he said somewhat sheepishly. The bartender nodded sympathetically and the man crouched down beside her. He carefully lifted up her head and spread the bundled coat under it. The moment the fabric touched her skin, she broke out into a smile and snuggled up to nothing in particular. The man nearly smiled too as he stood up and thanked the bartender. "If you want to pay me back, the least you could do is tell me your name." he replied with another grin.

"Booker. Booker DeWitt. I'll have to ask you to return the favor, I could swear I've seen you someplace before..."

The bartender snapped his fingers. "THAT'S it. You're the guy whose head I almost blew open back in Peking!"

"There's some nights I wish you had." Booker replied matter-of-factly.

"Yeesh. Guess we won't be sitting around the fire swapping war stories when your luggage wakes up."

"She's not luggage; she's my daughter."

"Daughter? Welllll, I guess congratulations are in order!"

"Not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Booker's response was cut short by the door banging open. A white-haired figure stood in the doorway, his bare torso decorated with strange markings, and his arms made of something that looked an awful lot like gold. He looked about the bar for a while before coming inside and slamming the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The bartender didn't miss a beat. He walked briskly over to the newcomer with the already-very-familiar smile across his face. "Welcome to World's End! What can I get ya?" he asked. The white-haired man grunted and said nothing. "Not much for talking, huh? We'll take care of that. Take a seat, anywhere you like!" The bartender gestured broadly with his arm, encompassing the whole bar. "Though if I might make a personal recommendation, the one in the far back. Okay, sure, there's a guy already there, but you two'd get along like a house on fire!" He was unobtrusively steering the newcomer towards the table with Booker and Elizabeth. Booker was trying desperately to think of a way to get his daughter and leave before they got there; he did NOT feel like talking...

Too late. The man was reluctantly taking a seat a few spaces away from him. Booker gave the bartender another glare for good measure, and the bartender laughed as he went back to tidying up. "Uh, hi." Booker said. The man grunted again. "You, uh, you got a name?" The man nodded with a faint grimace. "Look pal, there's barely enough room for one strong silent type at this table." Booker sighed.

"...Asura." the man said finally.

"There, see? Wasn't so hard." Booker said, eying his empty glass sadly.

"What about you?" Asura asked.

"Just call me Booker." he said.

"Booker." the other man repeated. "And who is she?" He looked at Elizabeth, who was still sleeping peacefully across from him.

"She's my daughter." Booker said. He thought he saw a familiar look in Asura's eyes...

"She reminds me of my own." Asura said. "She was beautiful when she slept."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that." the bartender said as he rejoined them. He bore refreshments, and Booker accepted his gratefully.

"Never did catch your name." he said.

"Jack Harkness. Used to be a Captain, but I gave that up. Gave a lotta things up, now that I think about it."

"Sounds like there's a story behind that too." Booker retorted.

Jack smiled sadly. "When you come work here, the universe you're from forgets you. Everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever loved..."

There was a long silence, during which lingering eye contact was made between all three conscious parties at the table. It went a long way toward establishing a feeling of camaraderie in the group. These men had seen things the others wouldn't believe, and they had lost things too.

Asura was the first one to speak. "I killed my kin for her. I killed a god for her." His voice held such a chord of truth that no one could doubt him. Booker paused with his glass halfway to his lips. "Can't beat that," he muttered in awe. "All I did was murder an old man."

"You don't even wanna hear what I did." the bartender murmured.

The threat of another awkward pause was broken by Elizabeth yawning and opening her eyes. She looked around blearily; the last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the beach. "Booker?" she asked quietly.

"Right here." he said just as quietly.

"What happened? Where are we?"

"We're safe, that's all that matters."

She sat up slowly, rubbing the sand from her eyes. "Who are you?" she asked the other two.

"Jack Harkness, bartender and professional therapist here at World's End." the bartender said, bestowing an even more impressive smile upon her than the ones he'd displayed before as he offered her his hand. She took it, and in one smooth movement, he stood up, bent over and touched his lips to the back of her hand. She giggled in delight, and Booker found himself afraid that it might be love at first sight. "The one over there's Asura. He says he killed a god." her father said gruffly.

"I punched his head off." Asura said in grim satisfaction.

"You must be joking." Elizabeth said, her eyes widening. Asura shook his head. "How did..."

"It's a long story." he warned her.

"We have all the time in the world, don't we Mr DeWitt?"

"How many times, Elizabeth? It's Booker." he said in exasperation.

"It's not my fault I was raised as a lady!"

"Yeah, by a giant killer bird." Jack raised an eyebrow. "I'm starting to think you do it on purpose."

"Do what on purpose?" she asked with a barely concealed smile.

"You know." Booker said, arms folded.

"Well I'll never tell." Elizabeth said slyly. "This smells delicious!"

"Tastes even better." Jack assured her. She raised it to her nose and inhaled the scent deeply.

"Go ahead; I already tried it." Booker said.

"Oh, Booker. Always looking out for number one."

"Damn straight." he agreed as she took her first drink. She let it linger on her tongue for a moment, then she swallowed it and took another gulp, and another, and another. "What'd I tell ya?" Jack asked as she slammed the glass down enthusiastically.

"I think I've got goosebumps!" she confessed. He grinned broadly. "I don't suppose you've got any more...?"

"You bet!" He stood up and nimbly snatched the empty glasses from the table. "Don't go anywhere." he said with a wink. Elizabeth watched him almost sashay away with a starstruck look in her eyes. "He's so..."

"Flamboyant?" Booker asked.

"I was about to say GORGEOUS!"

"I was afraid of that." He sighed. "Look, Elizabeth, I don't think he's exactly the marrying sort."

"What does that mean?" _All those damn books and not one talkin' about the birds 'n' the bees? _He took a large sip of his drink to fortify his nerves. "Some folk, they uh...swing the other way, if you get my meanin'." She still looked confused. "Come on, do I have to spell it out? He likes men, Elizabeth."

"Men, women, flora, fauna, you name it; I'll try anything once!" Jack said, making Booker start so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. The bartender laughed and handed Elizabeth an extra large glass, which was near to overflowing with whatever strange concoction he'd invented. "Try not to drink it all at once now." he advised her.

"I make no promises!" she said happily.

Booker wiped a drop of sweat off his face with the back of his hand. "Just in the nick of time." he muttered appreciatively to Jack.

"Ah, don't mention it. When you say you murdered an old man..."

The budding conversation was interrupted by the sound of something colliding with the door. Everyone looked up as another hit was made, followed by a disgruntled grumble. Finally, almost sheepishly, the handle turned, and another white-haired man entered. He wore a knee-length red coat, a black-buckled undershirt and had a very respectable broadsword strapped to his back. "That door's stronger than it looks," he said jovially. "I gotta have the name of your carpenter!"


	3. Chapter 3

The young man made his way casually over to their table. "I haven't got the faintest idea where I am, but I'm guessing you're the guy in charge." he said as he came to a halt in front of Jack.

"Jack Harkness." he said, shaking the newcomer's hand. "I run the place, at least as much as anyone can claim to run it. Welcome to World's End."

"World's End? Heh. And here I thought I already knew every bar between here and Hell." His gaze shifted to Elizabeth, who had been watching in mild bewilderment as he'd made his entrance. "Now **you're** a sight for sore eyes! What's your name, gorgeous?"

"I'm Elizabeth." she said, still looking at him quizzically.

"Well Miss Elizabeth," he said as he bowed low before her. "You can call me...Dante." As he announced his name, he whipped out a luscious rose and placed it delicately in her lap. She smiled in delight, but Booker rolled his eyes. "Hey hotshot, you mind? That's my daughter you're hittin' on."

The young man looked between them with a sardonic grin. "Oh yeah, the family resemblance is uncanny! Pull the other one, ya big galoot."

"Okay! How's about I go get us some drinks, huh?" Jack said loudly as Booker leaned forward, all calm on the surface.

"None for me." Asura muttered. He'd barely touched his.

"I'll have what she's having." Dante said, sitting down emphatically beside her. Booker frowned. _If he so much as touches her..._

Jack went back to the bar, but not before murmuring "Down boy" in Booker's ear and patting him on the shoulder reassuringly. Dante unholstered his sword and tossed it casually to the ground. "What's with tall dark and ugly over there?" he asked.

"Deicide is hard work." Elizabeth said. She seemed to enjoy Dante's flippant manner.

"Whoa, little lady! I'm just a simple demon-slayer. You'll have to be a little less fancy when you talk."

"All talk and no brains." Booker commented to Asura, who nodded in agreement.

"Don't be rude, dad." Elizabeth scolded him. Dante just waved a hand airily.

"He killed a god, huh? I didn't even know those existed." he said, staring curiously at Asura.

"Maybe in your world they don't." she said. "But out there, who knows?"

"Sure as hell weren't any gods where we came from." Booker said. "If there were, why'd they let Comstock get away with all the things he did?"

"Just because they're a god doesn't make them above us." Asura said. "Perhaps they were on his side."

"Okay, why didn't they strike me down when I got too close to his precious Lamb?"

"Hey look, booze!" Dante interrupted. Jack Harkness was on his way back with a tray of drinks. "Nothin' like an unrestricted flow of alcohol to dull the sensibilities and put an end to boring religious debates!"

"Figured I'd try and spice things up a bit before the rush." Jack said. He handed Booker and Elizabeth a new blue drink which bubbled thickly at them. "Blueberry syrup with a little something extra" was all he'd say when pressed. Dante accepted his without hesitation and raised it in a cheery salute. "Here's looking up your old ad-dress!" he said. Booker raised his reluctantly, but Elizabeth clinked glasses with the demon hunter. She seemed determined to outdo him and downed the whole glass in one swig. Booker approached his in an only slightly more sensible manner, drinking half in his first sip. They soon regretted it; not only was it sweet, it was almost lethally so. Elizabeth burst into a fit of coughing, but waved away offers of help. "That's...ugh, that's a bit too much!" she complained, wiping tears from her eyes.

"What'd you do, pour a barrel of sugar in it?" Booker agreed with a wheeze.

Dante looked at them almost pityingly. "Some people just don't know their limits." he sighed, lifting his glass to his lips and extending his pinky as he did.

The front door opened and a group of people stumbled in. They were all adorned with garish hats, scarves, boots, fancy dress uniforms... Even the strange gas-masked figure had a disturbing blonde wig atop its head, complete with a fake brown mustache and monocle on the mask itself. Jack excused himself and went off to try and help them. "Do we even want to know what that's about?" Dante wondered aloud.

"Only thing that bothers me is the toy Songbird on the one in the back." Booker said. "'Side from that, well, fashion is fashion."

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet to get a better look. "That's Songbird all right..." she said. "Where did he get it?"

"What's a Songbird?" Asura asked. Booker winced inwardly as his daughter's face fell.

"Closest thing she had to a friend." he said. "Trouble was, he worked for Comstock, who, as I think I said, was a real son of a bitch." As he said it, he saw a strange look in Elizabeth's eyes, the kind of look she had in the lighthouses...

"All you ever said to me was that he had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow." Dante said. "So who was he?"

"Where to start?" Elizabeth asked. "He locked me in a tower, tried to groom me to take over the world..."

"I find the best place to start is at the beginning." Asura offered.

"There's the beginning and then there's the beginning." Booker said by way of explanation. "But if you want the story as I saw it, well... It started in a tiny little dinghy off the coast of Maine..."

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for this." Dante complained, but he listened anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Time passed, somehow. Booker's voice grew hoarse and Elizabeth took up the story. The room continued to fill with people and others. Jack Harkness stopped by for refills and was so absorbed in what he heard of the tale that he nearly overfilled Dante's glass. Elizabeth left her seat beside Dante with a whispered apology when Booker was relating the events aboard the First Lady and in Finkton, and when he reached the part of the tale when she'd clubbed him with a wrench, she tapped him on the shoulder. He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and turned to face her. Before he could say anything though, she hugged him. Dante let out an _aww_. (It might have been sarcastic, but it might not.)

"What's this for?" Booker asked, surprised but pleased.

"We've come a long way since Battleship Bay, Booker. I just wanted to thank you."

"You say that with such finality." Asura observed.

"Everything has to end." she said cryptically.

"I wish you didn't have to be so damn right all the time." Booker said. After a brief pause and sip of his drink, he resumed the story. Eventually, Elizabeth let go and, after some struggling, managed to sit on his lap. He draped an arm about her shoulders and she in turn rested her head against his broad chest. She drifted off to sleep, lured back by the buzz of talk in the room and the murmur of her father's voice.

A change in the way he spoke was what woke her. Through the fading veils of slumber, she managed to hear one thing. "Comstock House." She trembled uncontrollably. She'd tried so hard to forget it. Five months. Five months. Did he know? She hoped not. How long had he suffered helplessly through her screams? The voxaphones he'd found, which she had listened to one night while he'd been able to sleep...  
He was holding her tight now, almost unaware of it, as he recounted his last and only meeting with the other her, the true heir of Comstock. Next came the surgery. _Not the surgery. _As wholly irrational as it was, she swore she could still feel that pain. Her neck screamed.

Her memories were muddled from what little she retained of the tapestry that she'd begun to glimpse when the siphon had gone down. In her mind, she thought she knew what happened, but there were other pictures: Booker with a monster inside him, behind him; Booker on the other side of the glass, unable to reach her as she died.

Died?

She couldn't see.

She couldn't hear.

She couldn't feel.

There was nothing.

Just her.

Alone.

Empty.

Wait.

There.

A light.

A sound.

A touch.

Her eyes, closed.

Her hands, over her ears.

Father. Still. Dead. Rippling. Rippling? Underwater.

"Smother." Hers. Many hers. Not all at once, but close.

Her hands against his. Pushing down. Not resisting. He knows.

No, no more. Not him. Not her. The others haven't arrived. He is alive. She is alive.

But where? Not the tower. Not the city. Not the lighthouses.

"Safe." he said.

"Welcome to World's End." he said. But what is World's End? What is he? What is SHE?

Elizabeth sat up with a gasp. "You okay?" Booker asked, his voice hoarse from all the talking he'd done. She was breathing heavily and as he reached out to pull her back to him, she put her hand over his. A fragment of memory from the nightmare tried to drift to the surface, but she pushed it away. She cleared her throat and was pleasantly surprised when her voice sounded normal. "Just a bad dream."

"I imagine being between worlds would be most unpleasant for one with your powers." Asura rumbled.

"I've had plenty of bad dreams, honey. But they're just dreams." Her heart leapt a little when Booker called her 'honey;. For a moment, she was almost embarrassed to have had such a reaction to such a silly word, then she felt embarrassed to have felt embarrassed and hugged him all the more. Dante, who had gotten surprisingly drunk since she last spoke to him, said, "Back where I come from, people'd call this a Kodak moment. And then the other people would beat the crap out of the first group of people cause they were so damn stupid."

Before anyone at the table could say anything, a cold snide voice beat them to it. "I don't suppose anyone would care to guess which group he was in." Dante froze mid-drink for half a second, and then very deliberately put his glass back on the table. "So, my idiot brother _can_ find his way out of a rusty old demonic suit of armor."

The man standing before them was dressed entirely in blue, and had his hair slicked back to provide an additional contrast to his brother, whose hair was unkempt and unruly at best. Even still, they looked like they could easily be twins. He spoke again. "No thanks to that snot-nosed brat who stole my sword, with YOUR blessing no less. There will be a reckoning on that account, Dante."

"What the hell, you weren't using it. And you didn't even send me a Christmas card!"

The man in blue scowled. "I hope my brother hasn't been causing too much disturbance. He's bad enough when he's sober."

"Yeah, well, you tried to kill me!"

"We've been trying to kill each other since we were four."

"You got possessed by the Prince of Darkness!"

"And you're drooling."

"I am not."

"You are so."

"Am not! My body is a well-honed fighting machine. With abs you could grate mustard over!"

"I've got your sword." He did, and flourished it dramatically.

"Hey!"

"Come and get it, if you can."

"Why I oughta..." He vaulted to his feet with surprising speed and lunged for his brother, only to wrap an arm around his neck and mumble into his ear, "So three platinum-blondes walk into a bar that no one built..." The man in blue gave the three amused onlookers one last look, almost of apology, and dragged his brother away from the corner table, out of the bar and back to their own world.


	5. Chapter 5

They sat in comfortable silence, the Lamb on the False Shepherd's knee and the Destroyer, arms folded, looking about the room.

The crowds had thinned noticeably, although Jack Harkness was still kept very busy by those who remained. "He says much, but nothing of himself." Asura said at length.

"Maybe he got too close to someone once." Elizabeth said.

"I think we've all been there." Booker said, causing Elizabeth to turn her head and look him straight in the eyes. "What?" he asked. She didn't answer. "Silent treatment, huh?" Still no answer. "You know, far as I can remember, no one's ever tickled you before." One eyebrow raises slightly. "I'm thinkin' we should change that." The eyebrow raises slightly higher. "What do you think?" She shakes her head. "You sure?" A nod. "Cause I'm not." As if sensing her impeding peril, she started to back away, but not quite in time. Booker's hands were at her sides, tickling her just as he'd promised. Her peals of laughter reverberated throughout the bar and the conversations paused. "Elizabeth..." he chided her as he kept up the merciless 'torture'. "You're makin' a scene." She was laughing too hard to be able to hear him.

Asura stood up and addressed the people who'd begun to stare. "Go about your business," he advised, shouting to be heard over the girl's squeals of glee. "There is no cause for alarm." he finished and sat back down. "Mr DeWitt, I advise you to stop. You don't want your daughter to burst a lung." he added quietly. Reluctantly, Booker agreed. Elizabeth continued to giggle for some time after that, and the smile lingered on Booker's face just as long. Gradually, the other patrons began to talk again, some picking up where they'd left off, others discussing the strange group of people in the back.

Jack took a break from serving drinks and came to join them. "Dare I ask?" he said with a grin.

"Just *hic* just bonding," Elizabeth said. She hiccuped again and put a hand to her mouth in surprise.

"What's the matter, never had the hiccups?" Jack asked. She shook her head and tried to ask what the hiccups were, only to be interrupted by a textbook example of one. "You know science has done wonderful things in the fifty-first century. They cured the common cold by the late 2300s. Funny thing is, some people on the outer rim developed this genetic disorder that made them more prone to involuntary diaphragm spasms. And since genetic modification was banned almost as soon as it became widespread, they had to live with it, at least the first few generations."

"That so?" Booker commented.

"I know. Riveting, isn't it?" Jack said sarcastically. "Well!" He slapped the table with his hands. "Better get back to work!"

"Aren't you going to share the miracle cure they invented?" Asura asked.

"Hell no. First case of hiccups should be cherished!" Jack said, winking at the mildly distraught Elizabeth before heading to the bar. She turned back to face her father who tried his best to look suitably concerned. "Sorry." he said.

"No *hic* no you're not." she accused him. "Lucky for *hic* lucky for you I'm not *hic* sorry either!"

"Would a kiss help you feel better?" he asked.

"It might. Not that you *hic* need a reason..." she said. Booker smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"That didn't seem to do it. Want me to try again?" he asked after a brief pause. She pretended to think, then nodded eagerly. So he kissed her on the other cheek. "There. Now you're all kissed up." he assured her.

"What does that MEAN?" Asura growled.

Booker shrugged. "Doesn't have to mean anything." Elizabeth chimed in with a hiccup. "She agrees."

Asura sighed. "What will you do now?" he asked.

Booker pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I dunno. We've been t' so many places since the siphon went down. There was the one with the nexus, the one with the glowing aliens, the one where we climbed a mountain only to have the physical manifestations of time and space try 'n' kill us..." He trailed off, remembering what had gone before.

"To say nothing of Columbia." Asura added.

"There is one place left." Elizabeth said. Booker looked at her.

"You mean P..."

She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Yes. It's time, Booker." She stood up and began unrumpling her dress. Booker finished his last drink hurriedly and got to his feet. "Well, it's been nice meetin' you Asura." he said, offering the other man his hand. "You take care of yourself now."

Asura clasped Booker's hand and shook it firmly. "You haven't guessed? I am dead DeWitt. It was only chance I retained my body when I arrived."

"Oh. I, I'm sorry t' hear it." Booker said lamely.

"I died for my daughter, just as you would." Asura said. "I will wait here for a time, and then I shall enter the wheel. Perhaps my sins have been outweighed by the little good I did. But it matters not." He turned to Elizabeth. "I am sorry for all the pain you've endured, child. I hope the rest of your life is a happy one."

Instead of answering, Elizabeth came around the table and gave him a hug. "Your daughter is a lucky girl, Asura." she said softly. "I hope she knows it."

"I...I am sure she does." Asura said, clearly uncomfortable. When she let go, he cleared his throat loudly. "You should go. You don't want to be late."

"How can we be late?" she asked with a laugh. "We don't even know where we're going!"

Booker scooped up Jack's greatcoat. "Come on. Let's give this back before we go." He nodded to Asura as Elizabeth rejoined him, and they made their way to the bar. A customer was just leaving; an angry-looking man in a strange outfit, with a patch across one eye.

"That kid and Asura would get along like a house on fire. They look nice enough, but dig just a little below the surface..." Jack said almost to himself. "Hey, thanks for returnin' it. It's the only thing I have left of those times. They were fun while they lasted." He accepted the coat and stowed it away beneath the countertop. "Sure you don't want one for the road?" he asked.

"Nah. Think I pushed my luck by havin' as many as I did." Booker said. "Just wanted to say thanks. You may be an oddball, but you got it where it counts."

"I could say the same for you," Jack said, shaking Booker's hand. "You two take care now!" He made sure to kiss Elizabeth's hand one last time before she went.

As Booker and Elizabeth made their way to the door, he wondered aloud, "Wonder what this place and the lighthouses have in common."

"They're beacons of hope for people who've lost their way." Elizabeth replied.

"Think that's us?"

"No. We've found it."

And they left.

**The adventure ends in Nothing Matters...**


End file.
